


Europa

by frozenpapers



Category: Frozen (2013), Helsa - Fandom, Iceburns - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenpapers/pseuds/frozenpapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Hans x Elsa; Frozen Modern AU]<br/>He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling like stardust as he toyed with the small silver band. "Take a leap of faith." He murmured.</p><p>---</p><p>She doesn't need the ties, doesn't want them. She comes as she goes no matter what she would leave behind. She didn't bother with the aftermath because it never affected her. She has her own game, and she plans to play it as long as she lives. No straight roads, just impulses. Adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Europa

Rain, cold depressing rain pelted on the roads of New York as lightning pierced the sky like Satan’s prongs, the clap of thunder emphasizing the agony. He drove through the traffic with a temper as hot as lava, his eyes – a dangerous shade of green – scorched every inch of the city, the bitter taste of hate sitting on his tongue like a king to a throne, his oaths rolling like perilous waves in a disturbed sea. He grunted when he spotted the glaring red light as he ground his teeth together, his grip on the steering wheel becoming fiercer. The impatience slithered and pressed his ire further as his mutterings became shouts to scream of complete distraught. He slammed his fist on the horn and pressed his fingers on his eyelids, ignoring the protest of the cars behind him, wishing all of them to the devil.

The sashays of his wipers and the pelts of rain only increased his woe, forcing him to jam a random CD from his compartment, and immediately, Panic! At The Disco haunted the perturbed atmosphere. He lifted his head with squinted eyes and a dry throat, the tears at bay but never shed, and looked at the flashy sign that swayed through the gusts of wind. Intrigued, he decided to drive.

\-----

The next five minutes, he found himself wet and seated on the far end corner of the diner, ready to throttle the life out of someone. He picked on the menu –  _more like a cardboard_  – sitting squarely on the marbled table without enthusiasm, a little irritated with the constant jingle the bell made and the hinges that sung in protest when the door opened. A curse left his pale thin lips as he eyed the scribbles in distaste, the ire settling in comfortably, ready for another round of self-loathing and blaming. He balled his hands into fists as he kept his eyes still on the poorly sketched meals, the socket of his eyes burning, making him feel like Nicholas Cage on The Ghost Rider.

But before he could continue with the flare that was already burning at the tip of his tongue, the click of a pen had made him turn his head to scowl at whoever it was who dared to interrupt his direful musings.

She stood there with the biggest of blue eyes and the most naïve smile pasted on her heart shaped face, waiting for him to open his mouth and bark his orders at her. She huffed her bangs off of her face and tugged nervously on the left twin braid resting on her breast, the pad and pen resting on her right palm. He scowled at her, but the smile never left her features.

A minute had passed and she was about to stuff the pen and pad on her apron’s pocket, her hand doing an absolutely weird gesture he hadn’t seen before. He thought she was joking, but the hilarity of it never occurred to him as he continued to stare at her as if a second head had sprung from her neck. She didn’t look shaken at all as she continued  _prattling_  with her hands, her brows quipped as if to say,  _why hasn’t this guy ordered yet?_

She tried to slow down for his sake, but a hand had stopped her, the same gesture – yet done differently – exchanged. And quietly, she shuffled back to the counter with his green eyes following her like a shadow. The woman, who he presumed must be from another planet, cleared her throat, immediately winning his attention.

He looked at her, the same blue eyes – no, this time the shade was different, darker and  _elusive_  – welcoming him – more like pushing him out the door. The smirk she wore on her face looked natural as she flicked her braid to her back. It was then he realized that she wasn’t wearing the same apron and mustard yellow dress as the woman before; instead, she was wearing torn jeans and a leather jacket. She seemed like the woman in charge.

“She’s mute.” She said as she pointed her thumb at the red head.

He nodded with disinterest as he let his eyes fall back on his hands.

“So…” she trailed off as she crossed her arms against her chest. “What will you be having aside from depression and self-loathing?”


End file.
